


Dumpster Fires

by prettylittlefears82



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, i'm not specific as i should be during the text about...anything, real light on that one, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlefears82/pseuds/prettylittlefears82
Summary: They're running straight into a dumpster fire, these two.***"Mad people = people who stand alone and burn. I'm attracted to them because they give me permission to do the same." - Susan Sontag
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Dumpster Fires

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little thing. Along with the editing, the characterization here is...iffy, to say the least. But it's my first true samsteve fic *pops confetti*, and I truly don't read it as much as I should so I'm letting myself off the hook just once. Had to write the two captains on the day I get my own powers...

_Run._

That's his first instinct when Steve comes back telling people are out to get him. And he knows, he _knows_ that that means if (when) he lets them in, he's a target too.

_Close the damn door Wilson!_

He lets them in.

_No, what are you doing?_

He lets them stay.

_Shit._

* * *

"So," Sam asks, hands folded on top of the chair in front of him as he stands and leans it back. "You mentioned people are trying to kill you?"

Steve chuckles lightly, looking around at the place as he sits on the couch. His gaze stills on a painting hung on the wall, eyes looking intently. "They always are - it's part of the job - just more than normal now."

"Mm. So you came here. Am I your safe house?" He narrows his eyes. Tries to get the point across that maybe, just maybe, he wants to be. 

They've been running around each other ever since they met. Literally. And Sam knows he's not imagining it. What he can't begin to imagine is why none of them ever makes a move...

He's wonders if the woman he's brought along can feel the tension slipping off them. The thick of it threatens to strangle him. And he wants it to. He wants Steve. And him sitting in his house looking so...comfortable...it doesn't help at all.

Natasha, he's learned to call her, is in the bathroom, and them sitting on a bed in the guestroom when Steve finally answers the question.

"I wouldn't call it that. But yeah, basically."

"Guessing you had no where else to go." Sam means to ask, but it comes out as more of a statement. His knee taps against Steve's once as he bounces on his leg on his heel erratically, so he stops.

Steve rubs at his neck, and seemingly, settles something and makes a choice.

"I wouldn't use a situation like this to visit you if I didn't need to. No matter how much I want you." He meets Sam's eyes, making sure the other man knows exactly what he means.

Steve wants him. Steve wants him. _Steve_ wants _him_.

The mentioned man places two fingers on the bridge of his nose, then looks at him. "God..." A heavy sigh, "I- I wanted to do it right - I swear. I wanted to take you on a proper date, see you all dolled up, all o' that cute stuff." He gives Sam a small smile.

And it hurts as much for him because Sam knows he could never have that with anyone, much less Steve. And truthfully, that isn't really what he wants.

"I wanted to make you mine, the real way." He looks utterly defeated, deflated even, despite his calm expression. A far cry from Captain America. But Sam knows that Steve isn't Captain America. Steve is Steve.

"I wanted to be _yours_ , Steve." he tells him, and it's true.

That's what he's wanted for a while now, despite himself. They were running, and the sunrise was in the background, and as much as he was trying to keep up and not fall flat on his face, he forgot that isn't the only type of falling one can do. He also forgot that he's put a quota on attachment, but it's so hard not to get lost in Steve's calm speech and their easy banter. Just forget that he's as easy on the eyes as it gets.

So yeah, Sam's gotten attached. And yeah, he hopes Steve feels the same.

"Past tense?" the other man whispers.

Sam shakes his head. Answers as quietly as Steve is: "I don't know if you really want me as I am."

Steve stills, and stares him head on. "And what are you?"

A fake, he'd say. A fraud. Someone who lets off something entirely different than they are. But he knows Steve wouldn't put up with that.

"I'm not a boy scout, Steve," he almost laughs at the idea of anyone thinking the opposite, but he knows some people do. Perhaps even Steve himself. "Tha- Whatever everyone thinks - that's not me."

Sure he lives for the danger of his prior job, but it's more than that. It's...a rush. He feeds off it, fed off it, and it's a problem. It only ended in disaster. Riley's evidence of that. And still, here he is, running into a dumpster fire, _again_.

"And I know all about that life, Sam, trust me."

He does trust Steve. He just doesn't trust himself.

"People get hurt." His voice cracks with the sentence.

" _I know_."

And he's just inches away from Sam now. His sharp features displayed for him in all their glory: Strong jaw and sky blue eyes. His perfectly pink lips parted just barely now.

Steve lets Sam back himself onto the headboard before reaching up to cup his face. "I won't let _you_ get hurt. I swear that on everything. Just...trust me. And yourself. If you don't want this, I'm gone...But just know...I _need_ you right now. In more ways than one."

All he has to do is walk away; kick him out. _All he has to do_. But he won't.

"I want this."

And with that Steve captures his lips in a searing kiss, lips sweet with the taste of orange juice. It's almost soft, in the way that a first kiss should be, but they both know it holds so much more than that.

It's trust, and it's love, and it's their hearts laid bare in front of each other. 

Ripe for the picking, but already destroyed; shattered. With each other, maybe they'll pick up the pieces. Or they'll just fall apart again. Perhaps at the first sign of ruin, first crack in the foundation, they'll fold like the unstable houses of cards that they both are.

Neither of them was ever very much of a boy scout, huh? Well that's clear as day now. They'll just let the rest of the world figure it out for themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> Ty for taking this short ride. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a good day/night! (Psst...I'm on Tumblr -> @prettylittlebirds82)


End file.
